Jake and the Batman
by ordinaryguy2
Summary: Has Ghostface truly come to Gotham City? New story by Carycomic!


_This, like my other Halloween "_offerings_," will be a one-shot. But, one that is meant purely to test the waters of responsiveness. If more than just Harry 2 want to see a full-fledged story, I'll expand on the premise. Suffice it to say that the title for the one-shot is a punny reference to the little-known parent series of which DIAGNOSIS: MURDER was basically a spin-off!_

**JAKE AND THE BATMAN**

**By Carycomic**

**Disclaimer (re: characters and concepts):** _if you recognize them, I don't own or profit from them._

**Synopsis:** _Has Ghostface truly come to Gotham City?_

_A crossover set roughly six years before SCREAM 4 and eight years after BATMAN & ROBIN._

**LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA**

**(APRIL 1, 1996)**

The judge waited until the jury had completely re-entered the court room before asking the foreman to stand up.

"The bailiff has informed me that the jury has reached a verdict. Is this true?"

"Yes, Your Honor," the foreman replied. "We have."

"On the count of rape in the first degree," the judge ritually continued, "how do you find?"

"We find the defendant... guilty."

The resounding applause that rang out from the spectators' gallery naturally prompted the judge to pound her gavel for silence. Following which, she asked her second question.

"On the count of murder in the second degree, how do you find?"

"We find the defendant... guilty!"

This time, the applause was almost literally deafening! At the very least, it drowned out the panic-stricken protests of Cotton Weary.

"No! No! I didn't do it! I was framed, I tell you! Framed!"

Eventually, however, order was restored. Even Cotton Weary was quieted down long enough for the judge to render a sentence.

"Cotton Weary, you have been found guilty of the rape and murder of Maureen Prescott of Woodsboro, California. It is, therefore, the sentence of this court that you go to prison for a term no shorter than twenty years... and no longer than the rest of your natural life."

That last pronouncement elicited cheers on top of a fresh round of applause. Most of those who neither cheered nor applauded were reporters running out of the court room, as quickly as possible, to inform their newspapers and TV and radio stations of the verdict. Jason L. McCabe, however, was not smiling. Which was odd, as he was the District Attorney! One whose highly overweight condition had often earned him derisive nicknames like "_Fatman_" and "_Habeas Corpulence_." Yet, that had just as often caused his adversaries to underestimate his brilliant legal mind.

"You did it, JL!" exulted his special investigator, Jake Styles. "Weary's lawyer thought a change of venue would give him a fighting chance. But, you proved him wrong. Just like I knew you would!"

"That's what bothers me, Jake," muttered his baritone boss.

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"I don't know why. But, something about the evidence seemed a little __too__ perfect to me."

**GOTHAM CITY, NEW JERSEY**

**(NINE YEARS LATER)**

Mark Kincaid was conversing with his superiors back on the West Coast when there came a knock on his hotel room door.

"Who is it?" he yelled out.

"Room service, sir, with your order."

"Okay! Hold on a moment."

Out of force of habit, he peered through the door's peep hole. Seeing that it was, indeed, one of the hotel's waiters, he unbolted the chain and turned the lock straight up. When he opened the door, however, he received two nasty surprises. The first was the waiter collapsing into his arms, blood gushing from a freshly slit throat! And the second?

The identity of the killer... seconds before the latter barged in by jumping over the dinner cart and landing atop both Kincaid and the dead waiter.

"You rang?"

GCPD Commissioner James Gordon instinctively yelped a three-syllable reference to sacred cow manure as he spun about in response to the Lurch Addams imitation.

"What are you trying to do?" he exclaimed upon seeing the imitator. "Give me a heart attack?"

The Batman half-smiled. "Sorry, Commissioner. But, it is just three weeks to Halloween. So, you might say I was trying to get into the holiday '_spirit_.' "

"A childish prank like that is worthier of Robin than you. Where is he, anyway?"

"Let's just say he flew south for the winter."

In truth, Dick Grayson was attending an upstate college, practicing for the upcoming basketball season! But, the Caped Crusader, of course, kept that information strictly to himself. Instead, he adopted a more serious tone of voice in order to inquire why the commissioner had flashed the Bat-signal. In response, the latter opened a beige folder to show him some autopsy photos.

Resulting in Batman's facial expression becoming suitably grimmer.

"Who is he?"

"Detective Mark Kincaid; LAPD Robbery/Homicide. Hollywood Division. His specialty was show business-related murders."

"Why was he in Gotham?"

"Extradition case. Three nights ago, the vice squad in Chinatown busted some hooker. And, in running her prints for priors, they turned up a material witness warrant! That's not why I sent for you, though. Take a gander at Kincaid's chest."

The Dark Knight took a closer look at the stab wound pattern on the victim's body. And when Gordon saw the former's eyes bulge, he knew the Batman had recognized them, just as he had. Half an hour later, Alfred Pennyworth came down the secret staircase into the Batcave. Sure enough; there was his employer (and surrogate son), still glued to the screen of the computer terminal.

"Perusing eBay for new cutlery, sir?" he inquired.

"These aren't steak knives, Alfred," replied Bruce Wayne. "These are FBI photos of the Woodsboro, Windsor College, and Sunrise Studio murder weapons. Each of them custom-made to combine the slenderness of a tanto knife with the general shape of a Bowie knife! Easy to wield; easily concealed."

"A lethal combination, indeed. I take it, then, that these triplets are actually quadruplets?"

"Probably more like sextuplets! But, yes, I'm afraid so. The stab wounds on Kincaid's body were identical to those on every single victim in each of Roman Bridger's killing sprees. And I'm afraid that means... this is only the beginning of a new one."

_To be continued?_


End file.
